


to be so lonely

by LexTheMoose



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Draco just wants to do better, First Kiss, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Getting Together, Hogwarts Eighth Year, Light Angst, M/M, Nightmares, Redeemed Draco Malfoy, very light
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-24
Updated: 2020-07-24
Packaged: 2021-03-04 20:01:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,146
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25492030
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LexTheMoose/pseuds/LexTheMoose
Summary: "I just... Doesn't he look sad?""Oh, I bet he loves the attention for playing the victim." Ron snorts over a mouthful of toast and eggs."But that's the thing! He doesn't get any attention, he's just—sitting there. Alone." Sometimes Harry would see Parkinson or Zabini chatting with him, but Draco's mood is unchanging even with them around."Serves him right," Ron scoffs, and Harry silently disagrees. It isn't right, it just isn't.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter
Comments: 15
Kudos: 439





	to be so lonely

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first fic in this fandom! I hope it's up to the standards, and tbh it's very self-indulgent and fluffy.  
> Because I think Draco deserved to grow and have someone to help him grow, ya know.
> 
> Hope you liked this, please don't forget to leave a kudos/comment if you did!  
> Find me on tumblr: kingspapercrown.tumblr.com

It wasn't the first time Harry woke up covered in sweat, his throat sore from all the screaming despite the silencing charm he puts on himself every night. The pain is still present, but at least this way he doesn't wake up Ron and his other roommates on a particularly bad night.

He blinks at the ceiling, once, twice, before he realizes that his vision is blurred by tears, not by the absence of his glasses. 

No matter how many times he's been startled awake by the nightmares, his heart races the same and there are tear marks on his cheeks. He always lays there, head full of various images of the War, or lately, full of Draco Malfoy. 

His traitor of a consciousness even has the audacity to make those dreams the worst as possible, showing images of Draco laying in the bathroom. His white shirt is covered in red, he's unmoving, dead. 

Snape never comes, and Harry is forced to stand there, eyes wide and frozen in place as Malfoy's grey, stormy eyes become dull and washed out.

Harry hates these dreams just as much as the ones he has about Cedric. Both have him heaving for air that never reaches his lungs, the guilt pressing down on his chest like he has been trapped under a brick wall.

He sits up, kicking off the covers because he feels overheated even when he's shivering.  
Harry slips out of the dorm room, so his usual pacing wouldn't wake the others, he decided to take it to the common room a long time ago.

He doesn't even get to the bottom of the stairs before he gets the fire going, with a flick of his wand. He lets his legs carry him back and forth in the common room while his mind wanders, alight with nerves.

Having nightmares about the bathroom incident, or even every other aspect of the War was something Harry almost got used to. Yes, it hurt the same, the especially worst ones made him sob, kept him up most nights, the leftover flashes of the horrible images burned behind his eyelids, but they were always the same. 

Well, not tonight, apparently.

Harry has dreamt of Malfoy, on a sunny afternoon, and the Great Lake which would be confusing as it is. Why would Malfoy show up in his dreams after all? In almost a pleasant manner at that. He didn't look too peachy, though.

Well, he does look like that nowadays. Tall, but lanky, full of sharp edges as he has always been in the last few years. He doesn't slick his hair back anymore, its still flawless, (not that Harry thinks it looks nice or anything!) but it's been kept a bit long, swept to the side, and curling behind his ear.

His eyes are also dull like he doesn't have anything left to feel at all. Malfoy looks completely apathetic and it bothers Harry more than it would bother him if Malfoy would keep mocking him.

He looks _pathetic_ , there is no better word for it. Harry kind of wishes he'd be furious with them, for defeating Voldemort, or having his family's name slandered, just feel anything, for Merlin's sake!

Malfoy didn't even show any emotion when black inky vines crept out of the lake behind him to wrap themselves around him and pull him down into the deep, vanishing Malfoy without a trace, in a blink of an eye.

Harry screamed his name, — he's sure he screamed in his bed too, grateful he didn't forget about that silencing charm — but no voice would come out at all, his legs moved, but the steps were difficult like his feet were made out of the lead when he tried to make his way towards the lake.

It was too much to handle and Harry had to take several deep breaths to calm down, even now when he's been awake.

The guilt bubbles up his throat again whenever he catches the gaze of Malfoy across the Great Hall. He always draws his eyebrows together in a frown as he flicks his eyes back down on his plate, always full, even after Draco gets up and leaves. Malfoy even seems like he tries to make himself appear smaller, under Harry's attention at the very least

It doesn't make Harry feel better at all.

"Who are you looking at, Harry?" Ron asks, effectively startling Harry out of his thoughts, and making him turn back to his friends.  
Hermione answers before he could have the chance.

"Malfoy." She says casually, as she looks back at Harry, lips pursed. "You won't act like you did in our 6th year, are you Harry? I don't think Malfoy is—"

"No, of course not! I'm pretty sure Malfoy isn't up to anything, Hermione," Harry cuts her off. He loves her, but he didn't catch enough sleep to be lectured right now. "I just... Doesn't he look sad?" 

"Oh, I bet he loves the attention for playing the victim." Ron snorts over a mouthful of toast and eggs. 

"But that's the thing! He doesn't get any attention, he's just—sitting there. Alone." Sometimes Harry would see Parkinson or Zabini chatting with him, but Draco's mood is unchanging even with them around. 

"Serves him right," Ron scoffs, and Harry silently disagrees. It isn't right, it just isn't.   
Harry knows what it feels like, the loneliness. He felt it every single day he had to spend on Private Drive, he knows how maddening it really is, and even if Malfoy did or wanted to do terrible, awful things, he shouldn't go through that. Nobody should.

Harry vividly remembers the memory of Malfoy, yelling his name and throwing his wand to him that would defeat Voldemort. He remembers his heartbreaking sobs in the bathroom in their 6th year too and he has to realize Harry truly can't despise Malfoy as much as he would like to.

In fact, he wants to do something about his misery, anything.

Hermione locks eyes with him and there is a silent question on her face, paired with worry and then morphed into tired defeat when she sees the determination bloom in Harry's eyes. She knows better to argue with a stubborn Gryffindor, let alone the Boy Who Lived himself.

Harry _will_ do something, he has decided.

The first opportunity to Make Malfoy Feel Something as Harry had named it lovingly (only in his head, never out loud and maybe that's why he fails to realize the double meaning of it) shows itself in the following days. Harry is having dinner with Ron and Hermione like he always does. And he's looking at Draco. Like he always does lately, apparently. Two whole tables and six row of students separate them and yet he always finds the tall blonde in mere seconds into searching.

It helps that he always sits in the same spot, alone today, the few Slytherins that have returned after the war seemingly keep their distance from the blond too.

Malfoy looks just as neutral, pushing beans and eggs around on his plate. Harry rarely sees him eat anything at breakfast now that he thinks about it. Malfoy does reach for the pumpkin juice, and that's something. Except... The jug slips away from his hand, as if some kind of magnetic counteraction would be between them.

Draco stops too, hand hanging in the air as he looks at the pumpkin juice with a confused frown. He tries to grab it again, from a different angle this time and he has no luck, the juice almost runs from him it appears. 

Draco looks around and straightens his back, frown deepening on his features. Harry follows his gaze, spotting the two malicious Hufflepuffs, snickering, one of them does nothing to even try to hide his wand that he uses to manipulate the jug of pumpkin juice and annoy Malfoy.

Harry sees the frustration and almost something like— sorrow in Malfoy's eyes. It's quickly replaced with anger, however, and Harry had to realize he doesn't like it very much, even if it's more preferred than the empty grey eyes. He reaches down, under the table, Harry can only guess he is going for his wand and... He can't help it, he tenses up, all of the possibilities of what Malfoy might do rushing through his head at once. Malfoy is not about to hurt them, right?

Malfoy's hand comes back up the table though, holding nothing. He folds in on himself and shakes his head, ever so slightly, utterly defeated and just _tired_. 

Harry's chest goes tight again and he's the one picking up his wand this time, but he pays no mind to the Hufflepuffs who start to look bored now that Malfoy ignores the pumpkin juice.

He murmurs a spell that lifts the jug up and — albeit clumsily — he starts pouring some into Malfoy's cup.   
Malfoy rolls his eyes at first and then they go wide when the juice is being poured to him. He went still again, looking for the culprit and Harry nearly drops his wand when pretty—no, very much uninteresting eyes pierce into his, confused, suspicious. 

Harry flashes him a warm smile, one he would give to anyone else that stops him on the halls, to congratulate him on defeating Voldemort. It drops abruptly when Malfoy visibly scoffs and stands, his lips are pressed together in a thin line as he turns to leave. Harry feels disappointed, but he won't let that break his spirit.

Maybe a few other tries would do the trick.

Next time Harry decided to slip an extra sausage onto Malfoy's plate while he was paying attention to Parkinson. The confusion on his face when he looked down and then back up, eyes searching emerald greens Harry thought Malfoy looked adorable when he knitted his eyebrows together like that.

And then he nearly choked on his own toast at that sudden, strange thought. Well, if he's really honest with himself it's not nearly as sudden as Harry would like to make himself believe. More like repressed for years. 

It's not a weird thing to notice that a boy is cute, even if it's Malfoy. Despite him being _Malfoy_ , Harry could find some of his soft aspects hidden by all the sharp angles and cutting glances.  
There is nothing wrong with thinking he's adorable because it's just a fact. Most everyone thinks Draco is adorable, don't they? 

Harry will prove that right here and now.

"Hey, Luna, can I ask you something?" He asks, quietly as he leans closer to her while Hermione and Ron are lost in their gentle conversation. How rare, Harry wouldn't want to interrupt them, Merlin knows they banter enough. And he knows what their answer would be anyway.

"Hi Harry, of course, what can I help you with?" She beams at him and Harry licks his lips, glancing at the Slytherin table before he speaks.

"Do you think Malfoy is cute?" 

Luna raises her eyebrows at him and Harry is secretly proud of himself for surprising her. It's not an easy thing to do, after all.

"Well," she seems to think for a moment, tilting he head to the side as she studies Draco for a good few moments and smiles. "He's cute in a rat kind of way if you ask me."

Harry nearly bursts out laughing, he actually has to press his palm against his mouth to muffle his wheeze. He'll never get over how Luna can deliver the most scorching insults with the sweetest smile in the world. 

H looks back at Malfoy however, who finally indeed took the pumpkin juice Harry magically poured for him (that prank never gets old it seems like) and is currently nibbling on his breakfast, much to Harry's delight. He _is_ cute in a rat kind of way.

Or ferret, perhaps.

* * *

Harry didn't mean to make that 6th year Gryffindor's ears and teeth massive, really, he didn't. Only, the guy was pointing his wand at Malfoy on one of the moving staircases, snarling at him. And that's not nice now, is it? He had to do something, to be an example of house solidarity and all that bullcrap.

Malfoy could've fallen, and hurt himself, he had to do something.

That's exactly what he told Hermione and Ron when they have arrived back at the common room and started questioning Harry right away. 

It's not like Harry paid much attention to them, actually. Because Malfoy smiled! A small, faint one, but his eyes crinkled with it slightly, amused, and in Harry's opinion that was one of the best reactions he got out of him this year so far. 

Malfoy only noticed that it was indeed Harry who had his wand out, and who most likely cast the spell. His eyes went slightly wide when the realization set in and the smile disappeared from his face, to be replaced by his usual scowl. 

Well, Harry tried and mostly succeeded. It was a small victory!

Hermione looks at him, one eyebrow raised and Ron keeps waving his hand in front of Harry's face. 

Right, they've asked something.

"What was that about, Harry?" Ron asks, eyebrows raised.

"McGonagall said we're supposed to be friendly with the Slytherins." Harry shrugs, and he pockets his wand as they start walking again. 

"Besides, she's right. We had enough tension and fighting all these years. I just want a peaceful year." He adds, more quiet and serious.

"Is that why you helped Malfoy?" Ron asks, apparently not satisfied with that answer.

"Mostly," Harry answers after some thinking. 

"Mostly?" 

Harry sighs, one of those exasperated ones. How could he explain the crippling nightmares he has about his rival dying to his friend and the immense amount of guilt and _worry_ that follows because of his nightmares? Even if that's strange to admit.

Being worried about Malfoy that is.

Ultimately, he decides he can't, for now at least.

So he keeps his reasons to himself, even though there are very little things he doesn't share with Hermione or Ron these days. They're closer than ever after everything and Harry is so grateful for them, every single day. He's sure they would understand eventually, despite them having their personal problems with Malfoy, but not now. Harry himself isn't ready to have that conversation.

He's not sure what they would think, and mostly Harry is a little afraid of what they would assume. 

They could think Harry is 'obsessed' again, or worse, he has feelings for Malfoy! Which is ridiculous, of course. 

Harry just wants him to be alright, is all. And the nightmares might stop if that happens.

* * *

After more than a week of giving Malfoy small smiles over the sea of students in the Great Hall, and doing him small favours he didn't even always notice, Harry thought he should try and talk to him.

Well, the idea sounded much easier in his head, than it was in practice. Every time he thought about approaching Malfoy and doing something simple as saying hi, his gut twisted into a nervous knot. 

It's almost hilarious, considering he was the boy who defeated Voldemort, and he was nervous over talking to Draco bloody Malfoy? 

Their Potions class with the few Slytherins that came back to finish their 8th year however seemed to have the perfect opportunity to stop being chicken shit and talk to Dra—Malfoy. 

Harry ran out of dried worms, after messing up his second potion in a row and it's Hermione's fault too, really because she could've given him we guidance instead of the half sorry, half-amused smile she gave Harry. What a traitor she can be. 

Draco on the other hand seemed to have plenty more on his desk, more than what the potion required so Harry was sure he wouldn't mind if he'd ask for some. 

He gathered all his courage — _to talk to Malfoy! Some Gryffindor you are, Potter_ — and stepped up behind Draco. Harry just noticed that Malfoy is taller than him by a whole two inches, even if he's slimmer, it's _unfair_.

"Hey, Malfoy!" He must have spoken too loud or too suddenly because Malfoy literally jumps and Harry has no clue why he finds it so endearing. 

"Merlin's tits Potter, why do you feel the need to sneak up on people like that? If I wouldn't know better I'd say you're a Slytherin," Draco scoffs as he turns to face him, rather coldly.

Harry has the urge to tell him how he nearly became a Slytherin indeed, but maybe they're not on that level of friendship yet. Does Harry want to be on that level of friendship with him? Nevermind that, Draco is still looking at him expectantly and he opens his mouth probably to snap at him before Harry cuts him off. 

"Er—Sorry, didn't mean to scare you, Malfoy." He says and his lips stretch into a grin at the sight of Malfoy's terribly offended expression at that implication.

"I actually wanted to ask if you have any worms to spare? I'm all out."

"Sure, take them," Draco says curtly with a nod to the small pile of worms on his desk. And then he speaks again because he can't help it. "Did you still not add it? We're half-way through the class and it's the third step."

"Oh, I did. Two times." Harry admits, knowing full well his face heats up slightly. "But they kept dissolving after I put the next ingredient in and I had to start over."

"Did you increase the heat before you put the next ingredient in?" Draco raises a delicate eyebrow at him and his lips curl into a small amused smile, and Harry flushes, even more, frowning.

"No? The book doesn't say that." Draco sighs, exasperated.

"Because, Potter, that is a basic step we learned in our second year." 

"Oh," Harry says again, unable to form any other words.

"You're so thick, I shouldn't even be surprised by it." Draco murmurs, shaking his head like he can't believe Potter. 

"Shut up, Malfoy," Harry answers, grabbing a good handful of the dried worms, but his voice lacks the heat it used to have. He even smiles at Malfoy, as brightly as he can when their eyes met again. "Thanks, though!"

He doesn't miss the completely baffled look on Draco's face, and as Harry makes his way back to his desk next to Ron and Hermione he can't help but think that Malfoy looks pretty like that. Lips parted slightly, in surprise, and a blush high on his cheeks, such a nice contrast to his pale complexion.

* * *

Harry finds it much easier to talk to Malfoy after that. It's not that Malfoy intimidates him, it's more about Harry seeing him as an injured wild animal or some bullshit metaphor like that. He has to approach with caution to not scare him away or get bitten. 

It's just the guilt, isn't it? The images of his nightmares float in front of his eyes again, on queue. Draco on the bathroom floor, eyes lifeless, Draco being dragged down into the lake, disappearing under the surface of the water.

He shudders, feeling sick and Hermione gives him a slightly worried look but Harry dismisses it with a gentle shake of his head, probably looking slightly pale. _Not now._ He communicates with a look.

Hermione presses her lips together and it seems like she will ask regardless, before nodding slightly.   
Harry loves her.

He looks back down at his not even half-written Transfiguration assignment, wishing it would write itself somehow. Or Hermione would help, but Ron and Harry both asked earlier and only got a mild lecture on how the finals are coming up and they'll never be properly prepared if they keep copying her homework.

She _is_ right, but it's still so cruel.

Harry forcibly removes any thoughts of Malfoy, ready to focus and tackle this assignment, because he has to.

It works beautifully for a whole ten minutes, up until Ron glances over Harry's shoulder with a roll of his eyes.

"Great, it's Malfoy." That's all it takes for Harry's attention to drift. He twists around, not suspiciously at all of course.

Malfoy is standing near their table, pointedly ignoring them, looking for a book. He lets out a puff of air, looking through both of the shelves two times, lips twisting into an annoyed pout. He turns with an over the top sigh, and Harry almost snorts at the fact how all of this is over not finding a bloody book.

When their eyes meet Harry resists the urge to look away and only offers a smile and a small wave. Draco still has this bewildered and flustered look on his face when Harry does so, but he stopped scowling back at him, only giving Harry a polite nod.

Malfoy's gaze drifts down at the book open in front of Harry and he opens his mouth, recognition sparking in his eyes before he closes his mouth again, quickly. He seems torn, for a second and then huffs, turning on his heel to sit at an unoccupied table. 

Impulsive as always, Harry grabs the book and starts shoving his things into his bag haphazardly.

"Where are you going?" Ron asks, just as confused as Hermione next to him.

"Don't worry about it, I'll explain later." He says with a quick flash of a smile and then he's off, with the heavy book on Transfiguration, to stop at Malfoy's table. 

"Hey!" He smiles warmly when Malfoy looks up, not startled this time, he must have heard Harry, but he is just as confused as to why Potter would talk to him.

"You were looking for this book, right?"

"I was, yes. But you can have it, I'll do Transfiguration later." He answers, voice neutral and Harry wishes he would show any emotion at all because Malfoy is fucking impossible to read.

"We can do it together," Harry offers and struggles to suppress his delight when Draco's eyes go wide and he sputters. That's a hell of a reaction to get from the Ice Prince himself.

"Why?" Malfoy asks, maybe a bit too defensively, he must have realized that because he lowers his bony shoulders and his expression goes softer. Like he reminds himself that Potter is just being nice. Harry shrugs.

"We both need the book, so why not, Malfoy?" 

"Fine." The blond huffs and moves his bag to another chair so Harry can take the seat next to him. 

"I need some help anyway and Hermione just lectures me if I ask for it." Harry rolls his eyes half-heartedly. 

"Oh," Draco says, the scowl he didn't give Harry for weeks is back on his face and it makes Harry panic momentarily because that's weeks of work to get close to him rolled back. He cuts off whatever Malfoy wants to say next, to explain himself.

"It's not why I offered to study together, just so you know. We both need the book and I thought we could help each other too while we're at it." He shrugs sheepishly. 

"Sure." Draco drawls slowly, and the tension rolls out of his shoulders with it and Harry breathes again. "What's so hard about this anyway? I thought potions was the thing you were bad at." 

"People can be bad at multiple things." Harry huffs. "I'm normally doing okay but McGonagall wants to torture us before our finals. I'm great at almost everything else, mind you. Besides, not everyone can be a genius in every subject like you are, Malfoy."

Draco looks at him, eyebrows knit together and lips pressed into a thin line, looking for any malice on Harry's face when he says that but harry only offers a teasing smile. He means it.

And when Draco realizes he means it, that's when that brilliant blush forms high on his cheeks again, and the tip of his ears, too, Harry only noticed now. Gods, it's so easy to make Malfoy blush and Harry wants to do it again and again. 

"Well, I know I'm smart." He huffs and Harry laughs at that, grinning some more when he hears Malfoy's exasperated sigh. 

He does go back to his assignment though, and Malfoy proves to be surprisingly helpful. He still grumbles a little, like it's such an effort to point obvious things out to Harry but he answers Harry's questions patiently until they sit there for hours.

Hermione and Ron stop giving them worried looks too, after a while, but Harry knows they will have a long talk later in the common room.

Malfoy helps him Potions too, although Harry has more trouble in class, following the actual recipe than with the homework Slughorn usually gives them. 

But in turn, he helps Draco with his Charms assignments, well, they compare their homework because Draco is not so sure about some of his answers. That alone, him admitting that to Harry counted as huge progress!

Draco even said "see you later" when Harry left and he pointedly ignored the butterflies in his stomach.

Later, he explains everything to Ron and Hermione, the nightmares, the guilt. How tired he is of constant fighting and the conflict. 

They're worried, and not surprisingly suspicious of Malfoy. Harry can't blame them, after the things Malfoy had said and done throughout the years. He's not even sure he fully forgave him but he thinks he could. 

That's what he's working towards, at least.

So both Ron and Hermione is unsurprised when Harry breaks off of them when they step inside the Great Hall for dinner a few days later to make a beeline for the Slytherin table. Where Malfoy was sitting alone, specifically. He sits right in front of him, all casual like his palms are not sweating.

Malfoy looks up and Harry is used to his surprised expression by now. He's seen it a lot lately. 

"What are you doing, Potter?" He asks and Harry piles roasted potatoes on his plate.

"Having dinner, Malfoy?" Harry snorts in reply.

"At the Slytherin table." It's a weird, amusing mix between a question and a statement and Harry rolls his eyes with the dramaticness of one Draco Malfoy. 

"It's not like it's forbidden, is it?" 

"Do whatever you want, Potter." Draco scoffs and stubbornly stares into his pumpkin juice.

"Harry doesn't attempt to make small talk, he sees that Malfoy is on edge just a bit. So Harry opts for a comfortable if awkward silence while they both eat.

"Well, see you later, Malfoy," Harry says, downing the last of his pumpkin juice and he's happy to note that Draco's plate is almost half empty at least. _Baby steps._

"Yes, if I must," Draco sighs, but there is a spark in his eyes again, the dullness of them is more or less gone and that's exactly what Harry wanted. His heart is full when he goes to meet up with his friends at the entrance of the Great Hall.

* * *

Thursday dinners at the Great Hall are what Malfoy is really looking forward to lately. Let's be honest, it's all he's looking forward to.

Not because of the food, even though he started enjoying it again lately. But because Potter, for Merlin knows why picked up the habit of casually plopping his heroic arse down at the Slytherin table, right in front of Draco, with the brightest smile.

As if they've been friends all this time, as if the War and everything happened before could be erased.

Like Potter forgave him.

And Draco is smart, he knows it's not impossible, of course, _Perfect Potter would forgive him right away_. He's disgustingly amazing, in Draco's opinion, anyway.

And alright, he might have some unexplored feelings for the git, that he intends on leaving unexplored.

It's pointless, and just because Potter is nice to him, doesn't mean he would have the same feelings. They're barely even friends.

Still, every Thursday Draco arrives early and maybe he keeps staring at the entrance of the Great Hall, waiting for Potter to show up like an impatient child. _Or a cute little puppy,_ Pansy is delighted to remind him.

She's lucky Draco likes her.

And what Draco despises the most is how his lips curl into a smile every single time nowadays when he sees those messy curls show up, accompanied by Granger and Weasley. They don't even seem surprised by now as Harry heads straight to where Draco is sitting. 

And since when does he call him Harry in his head? Could be since two weeks ago, when Potter kept making him laugh so hard, Draco nearly snorted pumpkin juice out of his nose.

And that's different, isn't it? But he aimed to be exactly that, this year. Something authentic and more to what he pretended to be for all these years, to please his father. 

There is no one to please now, only himself and it's somehow even more difficult. There is guilt and high expectations, and the desire to do right, _to be good_. Good enough at least, for the wizarding world, or himself, Draco doesn't know anymore.

There is so much guilt.

And Draco won't let it consume him. If he does, he can't do better and that's his main goal.   
He can't be entirely sure Harry forgave him, but it gives Draco the reassurance that he can be forgiven if he tries hard enough to do better.

He chose to reach out to Draco, even when he tried to push Potter away, he held on firmly and look at them now! They're having dinner together regularly. 

They're actually spending time with each other, outside of these Thursday evenings, Harry often walks with him to class or invites him out for a few hours of flying, and—Harry almost always sits next to him on Potions, not because he's terrible at it, or so Draco has been told, but because he enjoys spending time with him.

Draco is sure he was as red as the potion they were working on that day. 

But Merlin, he never realized they're _actually_ friends. Draco Malfoy and Harry Potter are proper friends and if he wasn't sitting already, he would need to right now.

Harry must have noticed Draco has been lost in his head because a warm hand covers his own pale one, fingers wrapping around the tip of Draco's. 

"I come here to have a nice chat and you're just ignoring me. I expected it from Ron, but not you." Harry sighs, but his devastatingly green yes are warm when he catches Draco's gaze. Draco must have been rubbing off on him because that's the sort of dramaticness that would be more typical of him, not Potter.

"Really, Harry, you wouldn't expect me to ignore you?" Malfoy raises a delicate eyebrow at him.

"Well—er— no." Harry stutters, his eyes go slightly wide, and Draco mimics him when he realizes why the strange reaction. It's the first time Draco used his first name and he almost starts overthinking, he already feels the tip of his ears burning. 

But then all his thought come to a halt because Harry grins at him so brightly, Draco is certain he would do anything for him to see that smile again. 

He never wanted to kiss anyone so bad in his life, and Harry's hand is still resting on top of Draco's, like it's the most natural thing and damn if Malfoy isn't ready to risk it all for the _stupid, handsome face of Potter._

"You're absolutely no fun to talk to today, Draco." His name rolls off his tongue easily, and Draco thinks he could get used to the sound of it.

"Would you like to go flying tonight? I only need to catch the snitch one more time to make us even and it's frankly unacceptable that I haven't yet." Draco huffs, just to make Potter laugh. And he might be a little sappy, but it's better than inviting him up to the astronomy tower. Every other couple goes there to snog.

But well— it's not like they're a couple anyway.

The walk to the Quidditch field is comfortable and then they're on their brooms, Harry already having a few meters of advantage on Malfoy and that just can't do. 

Draco leans on his broom, somewhat out of practice, but he's starting to get his old skills back, now that Potter started coaxing him out here sometimes. 

Always when it's dark and the moon is bright and the stars are pretty, when they come down at the end of a match.

For now, though, Draco has to catch that bloody Snitch so he can show Potter.

Draco almost forgot how much he missed flying, the wind in his face, he felt lightweight on the broom. 

He likes flying around with Potter, chasing him on the broom, and being chased back, Harry's laughter, it sounds as free as Draco's own. It's almost as if they're dancing around each other. All the rivalry, when they were kids. It was their biggest problem at the time.

Well, not Harry's.

But when Draco looks at him, and how his face lights up as he's making circles around Draco, taunting and looking for the Snitch at the same time, he knows Harry feels the same.

They left all their troubles and nightmares on the ground.

Harry stops, and hovers close to him, wiggling his eyebrows at Draco, his hair is a mess because of the wind, or it's just the natural state of it, Draco isn't sure anymore. But he grins at Potter and leans forward to gently drift towards him, determined.

He's not going to be a coward for once.

Harry seems curiously surprised as Malfoy approaches and he even tilts his head, before Draco sees his eyes drift, right behind him. Just as he's about to kiss Potter. Draco doesn't even need to turn to know it's the Snitch and part of him is so annoyed but another part of him is too competitive to not get that gold little annoyance, kissing Potter be damned.

He makes a sharp turn, just when Harry dives after the quickly descending form of the Snitch. They're head to head for what feels like minutes until Draco gains a bit of boost and Potter's arms are shorter enough than his for Draco to close his palm around it, the frantic fluttering of the feathers tickling his fingers. 

He's almost surprised enough by the Snitch pressing against his palm to let it go but he holds on firmly until they're on the ground.

"We're even, Potter!" Draco grins, waving the Snitch in his face. "I can't believe you didn't catch it, it was right there! I had to make a turn and I still beat you." He gloats.

"Oh, shut it, Malfoy! I clearly let you win. I thought you deserved it after the last time. You played pathetically." Harry's big smile mirrors his own.

"No, you didn't. You're just an incredibly sore loser." Draco huffs, and he sits on the ground like they always do. He doesn't even whine much about getting grass stains on his clothes.

Not much, anyway. 

Harry is sitting down next to him, so close they're nearly pressed against, side by side. 

"I'm—what? I'm the sore loser, Malfoy? May I remind you, you weren't talking to me for days after last time." Draco sputters at that.

"It's because you were cheating, Potter!" 

"No, I wasn't," Harry grins at him, and his eyes crinkle and he looks so wonderfully handsome in the moonlight like this. 

"You were, you prick," Draco shoves at his shoulder and Harry lets out a brilliant laugh, head thrown back and everything. He shoves back, with more force. And he doesn't let go, Draco realizes when Harry is guiding him down to lay on the grass. 

Draco doesn't think he will ever forget how hot Potter's lips felt pressed against his own. 

He opens his mouth for Harry, tangling his fingers into his hair, _finally_. He might have wanted to do that for a good while now.

The most delicious shudder runs down his spine when their to guess brush against each other and Harry's slight stubble is almost uncomfortable, and yet, _so good_. 

They're both smiling too hard to continue and what a shame they also have to catch their breath.

"Want a rematch, Malfoy? I can beat you again." Harry's voice is barely above a whisper against Malfoy's lips, content to just keep kneeling over him like that.

"Maybe some other time. Besides, no, you couldn't, Potter." Draco breathes and tugs Potter back into another mind-melting kiss, still clutching at the Snitch as his arms slowly wrap around Potter's neck.

Both of them forget what they were arguing about soon enough. 


End file.
